


Cendrillon: Night of Misfortune

by EternalWhiteRose



Series: Cendrillon: The Story of Two [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Character Death, F/M, I'm so sorry, Mentions of Blood, Tragedy, based on the cendrillon amv, they wear fancy dresses, victorian era?, yeah this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5973400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalWhiteRose/pseuds/EternalWhiteRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ball invites even the most sinister of people to come and enjoy the fun. When Papillon hears of a young baker's daughter not having her love fulfilled, he promises her anything her heart desires in return that she kill the 'prince of the ball'. At midnight, the miraculous would be his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cendrillon: Night of Misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Miraculous Ladybug Cendrillon PV. it's a true piece of art and I highly suggest you check it out.  
> Edit: Changed a few things

_“I have a task for you, young lady. You are to kill the prince of the ball tonight with this knife. If you succeed before the clock strikes twelve, I will give you whatever you desire. Money, love, fame. Whatever your heart desires will become yours.”_

_“Yes, Papillon.”_

* * *

The lights are dimmed in the ballroom, the bustle of the guests taking place of whatever music is set to play later in the night. Marinette walks through the front doors, her black and red dotted dress flowing around her legs, and her matching mask covering her face make her dull blue eyes pop. Her hair is let down over her shoulders, a golden tiara keeping her bangs from becoming unruly. Beautiful glass slippers adorn her feet, and hidden to the others in the castle, a sharp knife hides in her corset, ready to be used to kill the ‘prince of ball’ as Papillon had dubbed him.

So far, she hasn’t seen anyone worthy enough to be a prince of a fine gala like this, even when she was outside getting ready to enter the almost larger than life building. As a baker’s daughter, she knew nothing of of the high class; she’d never attended a ball before and never once mingled in the presence of more than one nobleman. If not for Papillon’s influence, she would probably be more nervous than she’d ever been in her life.

Then, in the corner of her eye, she spots a handsome man with long, blond hair and a black mask over his acidic green eyes. She almost snorts at the sight of black cat ears sitting on top of his head, but resists the urge as he walks toward her, face just a little bit flushed as he holds his hand out to her. “Would my lady care for a dance?”

Who is she to deny such a request? Slipping her hand into his, she allows him to take the lead, all the while keeping an eye out for anyone who would seem like a prince. She knew Prince Adrien; occasionally, he’d sneak away from the castle and visit her bakery to get fresh pastries, but she never once initiated conversation. Sometimes she could have sworn he’d try to talk with her, but she knew her place. A petty commoner like herself had no right to speak with the prince of the kingdom.

The two of them blend in with the crowd as the dance continues. “I’ve never seen you around here, before, princess,” he purrs.

“I wouldn’t imagine that you did,” Marinette replies, a smirk coming over her lips. Just because she was a pawn to Papillon didn’t mean that she couldn’t still be herself. “These masks hide our identities from each other.”

“Very true.” He laughs lightly, twirling her. “You may call me Chat Noir, my lady.” He bends down at the waist and kisses the back of her hand; a true gentleman, if Marinette had any say on the matter.

“Miss Fortune,” she smiles, and Chat Noir pulls away, his hand still extended, beckoning her after him. “Are you going to kidnap me?” Despite her words, she finds herself following him closely.

“Only with your permission.”

Marinette had to giggle at that one. Chat Noir proves himself to be quite the romantic, and she looks back at the one dance they shared just a few moments earlier. Even his demeanor from before when they first locked eyes had changed, and she could not lie and say that she didn’t enjoy the experience. Yes, she loves Adrien; but every girl in the kingdom does. Perhaps her heart can make an exception for one night.

As she’s following her masked partner to the stairs, her gaze drifts to a figure in the crowd, a butterfly mask hiding his face and a wicked grin plastered on his face. Papillon, she recognizes him from earlier when he first took a hold of her, and that’s when it came back to her. The agony of not being noticed by the person she loved and the promise of her dreams coming true in the form of a small purple butterfly. She stops, Papillon’s voice echoing in her head. “ _Remember your promise, Miss Fortune. Before the clock strikes twelve, you must kill the man who you shared that dance.”_ And then he vanishes again, leaving Marinette to frantically look around to try and spot him. Try and beg him to not do this. She couldn’t possibly kill Chat Noir, he wasn’t even the prince!

“Miss Fortune?” Chat Noir’s voice brings her out of her thoughts and she turns around to face him, dull eyes meeting lively ones. “Is everything alright, dear one?”

She blinks. At the end of the night, she would have to kill this man. This man who is showing her so much love in such a short amount of time. Her lips form a tight line as she responds, “Yes, everything is perfectly fine.”

 _Liar_.

Chat Noir continues ahead of her, slipping his fingers in with hers, and she dutifully follows. The clicks of her heels echo in the now empty rooms of the castle. “Your shoes, they are made of glass correct?” he asks, breaking the silence.

Marinette starts, but quickly relaxes. “Yes.”

“They are quite beautiful. But I can only wonder how much of a difficulty it is to walk in them?”

“Oh, it’s honestly not that hard. I just really need to be careful and not stomp around like an enraged toddler.” Easier said than done, she adds silently to herself with a small smile.

Chat Noir throws his head back with a laugh, and Marinette dares to look at the large grandfather clock standing nearby. Ten ‘till twelve. If she ran now, she would be able to let Chat Noir live. She catches him also glancing at the clock, a similar worried look crossing over his features. Marinette feels herself begin to shake. She needs to leave. She needs to leave _now_.

She kicks off her glass slippers just as an outline of a purple butterfly appears around her eyes, and a voice speaks, “ _Now is the time, Miss Fortune.”_

Without a second thought and through her resistance, her hands find their way around Chat Noir’s neck and squeeze. Tears finally begin to fall as she begs Papillon to let her be, but he doesn’t seem to listen. Chat Noir wraps his arms around her and holds her close, kissing her tears away gently.

They stay like that for what feels like an eternity. The only thing reminding Marinette of reality is the tolling of the clock.

_Midnight._

Her hands reach for the knife hidden in her corset, and her tears begin falling at a more rapid pace. “No,” she cries out, curling into a ball as the purple butterfly again finds its place over her face. She can’t kill Chat Noir! This entire night, the way he holds her, the way he didn’t hesitate to kiss her tears away–there’s something _there_ , there are feelings dying to be acknowledged! “Don’t do it!” she scolds herself, but her right hand isn’t listening to her, but it’s instead listening to the wretched _Papillon,_ and the knife is suddenly embedded in Chat Noir’s stomach.

His green eyes widen as he slips down to the ground next to her, a hand reaching up to cradle her head as she pushes the knife in further. His other hand strips the mask off of his face and removes his fake ponytail, so he can see his beautiful princess’ face better. Her gasp is loud against the quietness of the hall, and his eyes lock with hers. “Oh, _no,_ Prince Adrien,” she moans, fingers hovering over the knife as the butterfly fades away. “But you’re nothing like the man I met tonight!”

“A façade, my dearest maiden,” he responds. “My father would never allow me to dance with a baker’s daughter, and so I had to improvise.”

“Baker’s…” her breath hitches in her throat. “You recognized me?”

“Of course.” Blood drips onto the marble flooring beneath them. “How could I not? Your eyes are as beautiful as the ocean, Marinette.” He coughs. “I never thought that Papillon would have gotten to you, though. What caused you heart to go into such turmoil?”

“What?” Marinette breathes, and Adrien winces beneath her. “You knew about this?”

“Do you think this is the first time he’s sent someone to kill me? I’ve always managed to stick around guards so he was never successful. I don’t know what his vendetta is against me, but I know he wants me dead.”

Marinette bites her lip. “This is...this is all my fault.” She looks down at her dress and in a fit of rage, rips it up, and then reaches up to pull her tiara from her hair. She throws it across the room as she begins to pace, hands flying through her hair. “I didn’t _want_ to kill you.”

Adrien’s hand shoots up and grabs hers, pulling her back down next to him. “This won’t make anything better, princess, but at least know that I’m glad it was you.”

The girl balls her fists and curls up against him, sobbing freely into his chest. “That isn’t any better.”

He takes her head into his hands and pulls her towards him, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I would have loved it,” he begins, slipping off the ring on his finger, “if you had become my queen.”

He falls back onto the ground, looking up at her with now dulled green eyes. He chuckles. “What a sickening man, that Papillon.” Marinette grabs his hand, holding it close as she smoothes his hair down. “You’re so warm,” he whispers. “I’m sure your love would have felt just as nice.”

And his eyes slip closed, body going limp.

Marinette sobs loudly as she clutches the ring to her heart, cursing Papillon, cursing destiny, cursing whatever God lives above, but most of all, cursing herself.

The purple butterfly reappears. “ _The miraculous, my misfortune?”_

She growls through her tears as she hears shouts from down the hall. “Never, Papillon,” she whispers, and stands up.

The guards find only Adrien’s body and a pair of glass slippers.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was my first time writing in present tense and it's a lot harder than i originally thought, so feel free to point out any mistakes!  
> this is so dark. i'm such a tragedy queen.  
> background to clear things up: marinette doesn't hold the ladybug miraculous in this story, but adrien holds the chat noir one, which is why he can call himself chat noir. that's also why marinette was able to be possessed by papillon, because she didn't have a miraculous to keep her safe  
> i don't like hawkmoth. that's a really dumb name. papillon sounds so much better.  
> that's right, now this became a series. lord help me  
> Cross posted on FFNet: Eternal White Rose


End file.
